


Cheek to Cheek

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Dancing, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, PTSD, Sensual Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is almost human. Dean has a broken arm from a hunt. The Gates of Hell are closed and Sam has gone off on his own to never hunt again. <br/>Dean gets some new vinyl but he doesnt realize the negative memories that Alistair's favorite songs can conjure up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheek to Cheek

All of Dean’s music was John’s. He was tired of it, living in his father’s shadow. Yeah, he loved ACDC and the Stones and Zepp and the rest, but it was a love that had been passed down to him. Now that John was dead, now that the Gates of Hell had been closed and hunting had slowed down to a crawl, he was learning himself. He was no longer going to be John Winchester’s Boy. He was going to be Dean.   
He had gone to a record store. There was vinyl in the batcave and he’d played it until it was practically worn through. He was surprised to find how much he liked soundtracks and jazz and show tunes. He’d never tell Sam, of course, he didn’t have the ability to now.   
So he’d gone to pick up some records from the shop and the girl was more than a little flirtatious and helpful, what with his arm still in a sling from the last hunt. She’d been more than helpful until she noticed what he was picking out. It was all stuff that stereotypical gay kids would listen to, soundtracks from operettas and musicals. Dean didn’t care.   
He listened to them one after another once he got home. Some of them chilled him to the bone and he had no idea why.   
He was humming along and then he put on Top Hat. He hadn’t seen the film but he’d hurt good things about Fred Astaire. The first song was fine, the second he even hummed along to, but when it got to “Cheek to Cheek”, he couldn’t handle it anymore. He pulled the record from the player and tossed it to the ground, Astaire’s cheery voice continuing to echo in his head but it morphed, changed.  
The voice in his head was creaky, a croak, and it sang along a razor. The cadence was off but it matched with a blade that carved through flesh and bone.   
“Heaven.  
“I’m in Heaven.  
Dean fell to his knees, his hand tight on his arms. He couldn’t stop but think of it, the smooth sensation of the razor slicing through his muscles, the bones being carved and carefully removed, the hell-fire against his face.  
“And my heart’s so full that I can. Barely speak…”  
He squeezed his eyes shut but that made it worse. He could see Alistair’s face now, smiling down at him, head tilted as he cut and carved and carried on.   
“Dean?”   
He opened his eyes. He was in his room, everything was as it was. There was no hell-fire, no pain, no Alistair. Just a broken record on the floor before him.   
He looked up at Cas, standing in the doorway, briefcase in his hand. He looked tired, just after work, his tie skewed and hair a mess. He was almost human now, and he set the briefcase down, a bunch of essays waiting to be graded inside.   
He reached out, took Dean’s shoulder in one hand and picked up the pieces of the record with the other. Dean didn’t say a word, neither did Cas, he didn’t need to know.   
“Cas, don’t.” Dean pleaded but it was too late. The record was whole again in Cas’s hands. The angel was breathing hard, sweating, and all of him hurt. Dean could see it.   
Cas was losing his Grace in slow increments, but it hurt. Dean hated it. He hardly had any of it left any more.   
“Why would you do that?” Dean pulled himself up to his feet, clutching onto Cas’s hand. He could feel the muscles tensing there, just under the skin.   
“It was broken.”   
“Yeah but I didn’t want it fixed.” Dean pulled himself to his feet. “You shouldn’t waste your grace like that.”  
Cas looked over the record in his hand, trying to understand why it needed to break. “What was its offense?”  
“One of the songs.” Dean swallowed, trying to find a way to explain it, “It was Hell, Cas. It was Hell.”  
Cas took his face in his hands, wiping away the tears that were starting to accumulate in his eyelashes. He may have been hurting, but Dean had always been more important to him. Even when everything hurt so bad he could hardly get out of bed, he would, just so he could go to work and pay off Dean’s medical bills.   
“It holds bad memories.” Cas realized, kissing Dean softly. Dean could feel the way Cas’s lips shook, “I’m going to change, get out of my work clothes. When I get back, we’ll make some new memories, alright?”  
Dean smiled at that, a small, unsure smile. Cas grabbed some clothes and headed out of the room, getting dressed in the bathroom. That was uncommon. Cas had nothing to hide from Dean, they knew each other’s bodies more than they did their own, Cas normally changed right in front of him.   
It took longer than usual and when Cas finally came out it was clear that he had done more than just change. His lip was swollen and starting to bruise from where he had bit it, his palms were raw, and his eyes were red from crying. He must have been hurting a lot. Dean wished he could comfort him, could make the pain go away, but there was nothing he could do.   
Cas was no longer in his suit and tie, but a threadbare gray t-shirt and sweatpants. They were old and thin and didn’t provide much warmth, but Dean had bought them for him a while back and he wouldn’t get rid of them until they had completely fallen apart.   
He took the record and put it back on the player, starting it up. “Which song is it?” he asked, picking up the case and looking it over.  
“Cheek to Cheek.” Dan admitted.   
“Good.” Cas smiled slightly and got too close to Dean, breathing him in. “That gives us some time.”  
“Time for what?”  
“Dancing.”  
Dean chuckled, “I don’t dance.”  
“Yes, you do.” Cas grabbed onto his good hand and placed it on his own shoulder. “Watch my feet.”  
Dean did as he was told. Cas took a step back, returned to position, shuffled to the left and then to the right. “Follow me.” He said. Dean did, clumsy and off step, but his toes were matching his angel’s. “Those are the main steps. Just follow my lead.”  
For the first song Dean could hardly move. Cas kept the motions simple, made sure to go slow and let Dean catch up. It was all very embarrassing and Dean was pink and apologizing and tripping over himself the entire time.   
The second song was a bit better and Cas was even able to turn him a few times, which just the pair of them off laughing. Dean looked silly, tripping over his own feet. He felt like an idiot. Cas felt like he could hardly speak, he loved it, dancing cheek to cheek with Dean.   
On the third song Cas changed, lead Dean the opposite direction, making him walk backwards until he fell back onto the bed, bouncing slightly.   
“What are you doing?” he chuckled.   
“I’m changing your memories.” Cas nipped as his throat, fingers ghosting over his clothing. Dean stopped breathing, feeling that touch so close to him, Cas’s hot breath on his skin. That alone got him ready, cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans.   
Cas was good to him, touching and prodding in all the right places, giving him more attention than he would normally need. He pulled off his thin and frayed gray shirt and hummed as Dean pushed himself up, taking a pink nipple, tarnished by a small mole, into his mouth. He slide his tongue around the nub of it, drawing out small gasps from Cas as his good hand twisted at Cas’s unmarked one.   
It was the fourth song by the time that they’re pants were finally being removed and Cas was wriggling at that point. Dean’s fingers trailed between his cheeks, ready to open him up and he was shocked to find something already there.   
Cas chuckled and reached back, sliding the black plug out of himself. “I said I wanted to change memories, Dean, thought that would make things go faster.”  
“Sneaky bastard.” Dean kissed him, over and over again, pulling him in close, “That’s why you were in the bathroom so long.”  
Cas kissed him back and pushed Dean’s cock into his stretched hole. Dean sighed as he breached him, coming home at last. Cas was hot and wet and his body clung to him, not wanting to ever let him go.   
He started to move, hands on Dean’s chest as he rose up and down, pushing Dean in deeper with each motion. Dean couldn’t blink, could only stare at the creature above him. They’d done this before but, Cas never looked like this. His mouth was open, he was breathing through the intensity, head hanging down and then swinging so he was staring up at the ceiling as he cried out.   
“Heaven, Dean.” He moaned as the dreaded sounds of Fred Astaire proclaiming his love to a girl who had mistaken his identity kicked in, “I’m in Heaven.”   
Dean could feel himself falling, Hell taking him once more. He forced his attention, kept his eyes on this thing moaning and shuddering and fucking singing above him.   
“My heart’s so full that I can barely speak.” Cas cried out, nails digging into Dean’s chest.   
Dean grabbed onto his hips, noting how Cas’s thighs were shaking and he was slowing. He was tired. So Dean took over, going double time, making Cas lose his train of thought and lose the words to the song.   
“Oh I’d love to climb a mountain.” He whined, “Reach the highest Peak. But it wouldn’t, ah! Thrill me half ah! As Ohhhh God Dean, much as ahhhhh! Dancing cheek to cheek.”  
“Touch yourself for me, Birdy.” Dean was close, so close, it had never been like this, he was going to burst, “I want you to come.”  
He grabbed a hold of himself and started stroking himself in time with Dean’s motions. He tried to continue with the words but he couldn’t. It was just a jumbled mess of “Oh God”s and “Dean”s and then he was coming, cock red and tightly gripped, his semen bursting onto Dean’s chest and his anus tightening like a vice, forcing Dean through his orgasm.   
He held him tight, too tight, as he came, and Cas would have bruises on top of the one’s he’d given himself and the pain he always woke up with.  
Cas could hardly move as he lay on Dean’s chest, the man petting his hair lightly. “How do you feel?”  
“Memories better.” Dean could hardly speak, hardly even think. He just wanted to hold Cas close, kiss away any and all of his aches and pains away. “Did you mean what you said?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Are you in Heaven?”  
Cas pulled himself up, looking deep into Dean’s eyes. For a moment, he was an angel again, all fury and strength. “No Dean, that was a lie.”  
Hs heart sank. He looked away from Cas, chewing his lip. He wasn’t Heaven for Cas, even though Cas was Heaven for him. Maybe the angel didn’t love him as much as he thought.  
“Heaven was a horrible place, Dean. It was pain and despair and order for all of eternity. I like it here with you much better.”  
Dean wrapped his arm around him again, tight, forcing as much skin contact as possible as he stole Cas’s breath away with deep, heady kisses.


End file.
